


fall through like change in the daylight

by granderre (patroclvss)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: ALL THE CIVIL WAR TRAILER REFERENCES, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, a lot of the dialogue is directly lifted from the movie & the trailer btw youve been warned, au where you have the same scars as your soulmate, give steve rogers a hug 2k16, steve is Sad af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:59:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5662135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patroclvss/pseuds/granderre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where your soulmate's scars appear on your body, you'd think small, always-throwing-punches Steve Rogers would find his match in heartbeat.<br/>You'd be wrong.</p>
<p>Steve spends his whole life without scars on his skin, then becomes Captain America, falls into the ice, sleeps for seventy years and wakes up with the biggest scar he's ever seen on his left arm. It's - surprising.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fall through like change in the daylight

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by a tumblr post i will eventually link here as soon as i find it - it was about a soulmate au where if your soulmate gets hurt you find the conseguences of it on your skin, too (so like, if your soulmate keeps bumping their hip on the kitchen table you'll have the same ugly ass bruise. with no pain though). i decided to limit that to just scars for most people!!

The radio is playing a slow, sad song when they walk into the bar. Steve wraps his coat tighter around himself, small pale hands tightening around the thinning fabric. It’s so cold, it’s always cold, and Steve can’t help but worry about getting sick again. He can’t – he _won’t_ do that to Bucky.

Bucky, who has dark circles under his eyes but a smile on his lips. Bucky, who just pulled his third shift of the day just so “ _you and I can go grab a drink, maybe find ourselves some dames to keep us company_ ”.

Bucky who didn’t leave Steve’s bedside for a week just over a month ago, watching him, eyes wide and blue and so full of worry Steve felt his breath catch in his throat even more than usual.

He doesn’t remember much because of the fever, but his eyes – he doesn’t think he could forget them, even if he wanted to.

(And there’s the problem: he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to forget anything about Bucky, and that means a lot of things that Steve is not supposed to think about, or want, or wonder late at night.)

As they sit down in the first empty table they find, Steve’s fingers press down on his thigh, rubbing a newly formed bruise that he knows is already turning a dark shade of purple.

He bruises easily, and the way he keeps getting into fights doesn’t help. Sometimes he wonders if his soulmate has those bruises too, if they’re part of the small percentage of the population that gets temporary soulmate marks along permanent ones.

He hopes that he’s not one of them, because that would mean that Bucky is not is soulmate, and Steve’s heart can’t take that, not right now, probably not ever, because there’s still a small chance that _he is_. A part of him keeps quietly reminding him that neither of them ever got hurt enough to have permanent scars on their body.

He presses down harder until the pain that spikes up through his leg drowns his thoughts.

 

***

 

Being forced to perform for a crowd of soldiers who obviously have no respect for him – he understands them, really, he’s wearing thighs, for Heaven’s sake - would be embarrassing enough, but not being able to fight like he wanted to – that’s what makes him angry.

While he’s here putting on a show soldiers are giving up their lives to win the war, and Bucky’s with them, fighting, and Steve feels useless. They gave him a new body, a healthy, strong enough to fight body, and instead of letting him join the fight in the front lines they parade him around like a shiny toy.

He wants to complain, but he knows he should be grateful he’s not currently a lab rat, being experimented on in some government facility. Unsurprisingly, that thought does not make him feel better.

He’s drawing when Peggy comes up to him, perfectly composed as usual, and her vibrant red lipstick stands out even more in the bleak atmosphere of the camp.

When she sits down in front of him, he realizes she has a scar on her knee. It’s a small, straight line, thin enough not to be noticed at first glance, but it’s there, and Steve knows that her scar doesn’t have its match on his own knee. It’s fine. They talk, about what he’s doing, about choices.

She says “You were meant for more than this” with so much certainty in her tone it’s difficult not to believe her, and he’s about to answer but then he sees the army ambulances.

The feeling of cold dread that settles in his stomach when she explains what happened the 107th is the same as the one that hit him when his mother died, so he runs. He needs Bucky to be alive, and that’s why he steals one of the choir girls’ helmet and decides to go on what most people would call a suicide mission.

As he jumps from Howard Stark’s plane, giving Peggy one last look, what he feels in his chest can only be defined as hope.

 

***

 

Having Bucky back is exhilarating, like taking the first breath of fresh air after staying in bed for weeks because of a common cold, but sometimes it feels like he might choke on the sheer intensity of it - and Steve every so often has to take a deep breath and remind himself he can’t get asthma attacks anymore, because looking at Bucky feels like someone’s sitting on top of his ribcage and has no intention of ever getting up.

Something has changed, though. Bucky talks less, and his uniform is rumpled like he just doesn’t care anymore, but Steve knows that his best friend is still _somewhere_ behind those tired eyes.

The Howling Commandos help as much as they can, offering drinks and chocolate bars and advice – sometimes just someone to talk to. Peggy smiles at Steve when she walks by and Steve always smiles back, and after the fourth time it happens Bucky goes “Steve, you’ve been breaking hearts left and right and you didn’t even tell me?” and Steve just smiles harder.

After a while, the real Bucky comes back. He starts smiling - _really_ smiling - again and jokes with Steve and the Howling Commandos, but he still won’t talk about what happened in Azzano, what they did to him.

Steve has some ideas – experiments and tests and other horrifying things he really doesn’t want to think about.

He stays silent, still smiles and jokes with Bucky, and tries to enjoy having his best friend back. If Bucky ever wants to talk about it, he’ll be there.

When his injuries heal, they seem to leave no scars behind. Steve looks at his own unmarked skin and doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

(In the midst of all the chaos and missions and trying to take down HYDRA, he doesn’t notice he gained tiny pink scars that look like they were left by a needle pressed violently on his forearm.)

 

***

 

Bucky fell from the train. 

It’s all Steve can think about as he pours himself another drink he knows won’t have any effect, because his body now is so different, but still not enough; even with all the muscles he couldn’t manage to save his best friend, he couldn’t grip his hand tight and haul him back to safety, he couldn’t reach him as he fell to his death.

He could only watch as the white of the Alps swallowed Bucky whole, his desperate expression as he fell, and that’s what Steve’s nightmares are about.

He keeps waking up at night, cold sweat making his shirt cling to his back, after another terrifying dream that - he realizes this only after a few seconds - is a terrible reality.

Bucky is dead and it’s his fault, no matter the way Peggy and the rest of the Howling Commandos look at him, no matter the comforting words they’ve all said after the end of the mission.

Steve wants them to stop pitying him and start blaming him, but he can’t seem to get the words out. He can only keep fighting Hydra and hope the nightmares stop.

(They don’t. They keep haunting him, Bucky’s face behind his eyelids right until he opens his eyes, and they haunt him until the end. As he flies the Red Skull’s aircraft down into the water, he thinks it’s only appropriate that he would fall too.)

 

***

 

When Steve wakes up in the fake hospital room S.H.I.E.L.D. made for him the first thing he notices is a weird feeling in his left shoulder . It drowns out the radio – it’s wrong, everything is wrong, he was there to see that game – and he doesn’t listen to the girl that comes in to tell him what he immediately recognizes as a lie, choosing to shift the collar of his shirt down instead. When he manages to take a look he breathes in and out, trying to remember what the doctor told him to do when dealing with an asthma attack.

His mind is racing a mile a minute but he needs to be somewhere other than there, in a fake hospital room God knows where, to really process what he sees.

A huge, messy scar trailing all the way down from his collarbone and circling his left shoulder, forming a strange angle, and he knows it’s not a result of something that’s happened to him.

His soulmate, somewhere, has probably had their arm amputated, and that’s – that’s what caused the scar. It wasn’t there before he crashed: the only thing that he noticed was a rapidly fading line that went around the skin right above his elbow, and his brain helpfully supplied countless images of soldiers with amputated limbs. His soulmate suffered an injury so bad they had to cut their arm twice to save them, and maybe even that wasn’t enough.

He runs to save himself from what’s around him and what’s inside his head.

(“I had a date,” he tells Nick Fury. “My soulmate is probably dead,” he tells himself.)

 

***

 

The first time he visits Peggy in the hospital, she starts crying and he follows soon after. She holds his hand between hers and the weight of her age seems to crush him more than her, and the fact that her left hand and arm are still whole barely registers – he already knew she wasn’t his soulmate.

He looks at the pictures on the table and notices one of a young Peggy and another girl, and again Peggy, slightly older in front of a desk engraved with the S.H.I.E.L.D. symbol. 

The third picture is Peggy and another woman - who Steve presumes to be the same one as the other picture. It was taken recently - Peggy’s in a wheelchair and the other woman has a cane, but they’re both smiling and holding some kind of document.

Steve’s stomach does a funny twist when he realizes that it’s a certificate congratulating them on 50 years of marriage, and when Peggy notices him looking he doesn’t need to ask.

“That’s my wife,” she whispers softly. “You know, she almost jumped me in the diner where she worked when she realized we had the same scar on the knee - her name is Angie. You’d like her a lot.”

Steve feels his heart clench painfully. Part of it is the regret of having missed all those years - he never had the chance to see Peggy and her wife fall in love, or go to their wedding - but the rest is the gut-wrenching awareness of how lonely he is right now, almost a century after he fell into the ice.

(He leaves the clinic with heavy thoughts and a heavier heart.)

 

***

 

In a whirlwind of aliens, missions, and having to learn to work with a completely new team of people, Steve begins to find his footing again.

He misses the Howling Commandos and Bucky’s death still feels like a gaping hole in his chest, but he has to focus on how to work with Natasha and the doctors that run monthly physical evaluations on him don’t mention his soulmate scars.

He only read his file once, thanks to Clint, who bumped into him in an otherwise empty hallway in S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. When Steve looked down at his hands he found a dark yellow envelope, and turned around just in time to see Clint pointing finger guns at him, walking backwards until he turned around the corner and disappeared.

He vaguely remembered complaining to Natasha about S.H.I.E.L.D. not letting him read his own medical files, but he didn’t think she and Clint would really do something like this.

When he opened the envelope, the first thing he read was a big red ‘ _CLASSIFIED INFORMATION. SECURITY CLEARANCE LEVEL: 9_ ’.

_‘Captain Rogers presents FOUR soulmate scars._

_SCAR #1_

_Position: LEFT COLLARBONE_

_Description: The scar circles Captain Rogers’ left arm and seems to be the product of a limb amputation done with makeshift medical equipment, or possibly with no medical equipment at all (experts *[SEE LIST OF MEDICAL EXPERTS CONSULTED] stated the zig-zag pattern of the scar could be the result of a small chainsaw). Another hypothesis states that the pattern of the scar might have been caused by the installation of a permanent prosthetic arm._

_SCAR #2 - #3 - #4_

_Position: RIGHT FOREARM_

_Description: The scars are small and not noticeable at first glance, but look like the result of an unusual sized needle used to inject a fluid into the Captain’s Soulmate’s body in a violent way – which may indicate possible lack of consent on their part._

_THE STATUS AND IDENTITY OF STEVEN GRANT ROGERS’ SOULMATE ARE STILL UNKNOWN.’_

He closed the file with trembling hands, feeling nauseous.

Was his soulmate a war prisoner? It looked like it, from the way S.H.I.E.L.D.’s doctors described his scars – the words ‘ _possible lack of consent_ ’ immediately came to mind and made him want to throw up.

He never returned the file, just smiled weakly and mouthed a ‘thanks’ to Natasha and Clint during the next meeting. They both nodded at him, in what he assumed meant “don’t mention it”, and that was it.

The file is now hidden inside a copy of the Oxford Dictionary he has on one of his bookshelves, but he still thinks about it, even now, in the middle of his morning run.

He’s a bit lost in his thoughts, but he still notices that he passed the only other guy who’s running at the crack of dawn for the third time, and despite his mood he can’t help but crack a joke at his expense.

“On your left!”

 

***

 

“So, what you’re telling me is, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been infiltrated by HYDRA, Director Fury is dead, Pierce is a jerk and the Winter Soldier is not a bedtime story they tell little kid spies to make them go to sleep?”

Sam’s voice sounds disbelieving. Steve can’t blame him, really – it’s not every day a spy and a super soldier turn up for breakfast and ask for a place to stay because they’re the some of the most wanted people in the country and literally everyone is looking for them.

It’s enough to frazzle anyone, but apparently not Sam Wilson, who just rolls with it like it’s something of a daily occurrence for him. Steve envies his calm for a second, and then they’re back to planning how Natasha’s going to get back Sam’s wings from a locked down facility.

 It feels like a routine S.H.I.E.L.D. mission briefing enough for Natasha to snort quietly at the mention of twelve guards in front of one door and whisper ‘Budapest’ at Steve’s questioning look.

Sam raises an eyebrow.

 “Honestly? Don’t even ask. She’s just going to laugh at you,” Steve says, answering his unspoken question.

“Budapest,” she keeps chuckling, and Steve wonders if they should have called Clint, too. But Natasha hasn’t mentioned him, so he keeps quiet about it and smiles softly whenever he sees her arrow necklace.

He’s pretty sure they’re soulmates, anyway. When Natasha had showed him the bullet scar left by the Winter Soldier his first thought had gone to Clint – he has never seen Hawkeye with his shirt off, but he wouldn’t be surprised to find a scar on his hipbone matching hers.

 Shaking his head a little to chase away any thoughts about soulmates and soulmate scars, he goes back to staring at the blueprints in front of him, trying to figure out an escape route for Natasha that doesn’t involve her killing everyone in her way.

 

***

 

Jasper Sitwell gets thrown in front of a truck by a metal arm right after telling them what a terrible plan they thought of, and from then on it’s a whirlwind of gunshots and screeching tires.

The Winter Soldier looks as lethal as a well-sharpened knife, exactly the kind of weapon HYDRA would use, and Steve’s brain doesn’t have the time to process everything that’s happening, not even the familiar color of the assassin’s eyes.

They’re evenly matched, Steve with his serum and the Winter Soldier with his metal arm and the world is spinning too fast until the Winter Soldier’s mask gets knocked off and everything grinds to a halt. 

Steve’s heart grows roots in the asphalt under his feet and his stomach already dropped somewhere a few feet behind him, because _the Winter Soldier’s mask got knocked off_ and that’s not the Winter Soldier.

That’s Bucky. The man in front of him is James Buchanan Barnes, _best friend on both schoolyard and battlefield_ , the voice from the Smithsonian exhibit plays in his brain -

It feels like time has stopped just for him, in the space between a heartbeat and the next, and then started again somehow faster and realization hits him like a sucker punch.

When he says Bucky’s name it comes out sounding like a question while he meant for it to be a prayer, and the scar on his shoulder aches almost in response.

And then the man in front of him asks “Who the hell is Bucky?” and his empty eyes flash with something for a split second before he raises his gun, and Steve is still not moving -

It takes Sam and Natasha’s combined efforts, but the Winter Soldier – _Bucky –_ disappears, temporarily defeated, and then they’re surrounded by HYDRA dressed up as S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives and Steve does what he’s being ordered to without putting up much of a fight.

He stares at the ground without really seeing it, the only thoughts in his head being _Bucky_ and _metal arm_ and _how did I not realize it sooner_  and _does he remember me_ and _I left him to die in the middle of the Alps._

When he voices those thoughts to Natasha and Sam, his hands cuffed in front of him, he can’t help but turn his head to look down at his left shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, Steve,” Natasha says, breathing heavily. The bullet wound is still bleeding and she needs a doctor, but there’s nothing they can do right now except stare at the red stain on her jacket.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky,” he says in lieu of an answer. His gaze drops to his shoulder for the second time, and when he looks up again two pair of wide eyes are staring at him.

His brain helpfully reminds him he was wearing a tank top just a few hours before – even if it feels like it might be eternities ago – and they already put the pieces together, as expected.

Silence falls again – they all know this is not the right place to discuss something like this, in the back of a truck with two HYDRA agents with tasers listening to every word they say.

And then Sam voices Steve’s unspoken concerns about Natasha and Maria Hill appears from under one of the black helmets immediately after knocking the other guard out, and Steve’s never been happier to see her in his life – as soon as they let themselves fall from a hole in the floor of the truck and on to the asphalt of an unknown country road another black truck materializes out of thin air, and Steve tries to stop thinking about Bucky and the Winter Soldier and focuses on the fact that they’re safe, for now.

 

***

 

_Nick Fury is alive_ and apparently Steve’s the one giving the orders now. Their plan to take down both HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. in one go sounds impossible and risky, but Steve’s never been one to back down from a fight - managing to pull off something like this seems fairly probable, considering all the impossible things Steve has witnessed today.

He’s staring into the horizon without really seeing it when Sam walks up to him.

“He’s gonna be there, you know.”

“I know.”

He doesn’t need to ask who they’re both referring to.

“Look, whoever he used to be, and the guy he is now… I don't think he's the kind you save. He's the kind you stop.”

Steve doesn’t look at him, but he knows from the concern in his tone that Sam’s face is turned into a worried frown.

“I don't know if I can do that,” he answers, because it’s true. In a fight, now that he knows that it’s Bucky ( _his best friend/brother in arms/soulmate_ ) he’d be going up against, he doesn’t think he could intentionally hurt him.

“Well, he might not give you a choice. He doesn't know you,” Sam replies, and he’s right. The Winter Soldier doesn’t know Steve, but Bucky is not the Winter Soldier.

“He will. Gear up, it’s time,” Steve says, certainty in his tone, because he’s going to make Bucky remember him, whatever the cost.

Behind his eyelids there’s a flurry of images like photographs scattered on a bed, frozen pictures of him and Bucky together in their apartment, together in the streets of Brooklyn, together at camp, drawn to each other like twin asteroids, and he needs that back. He needs Bucky back, like a drowning man needs air, and he needs to feel like his skin is not held together with stitches made of grief – he needs to feel okay.

And it would be _oh so easy_ to let the sorrow he feels consume him to the core, but instead he straightens his back and walks away, and it feels like both his bones and his thoughts are locking into place.

***

The helicarrier is falling and somehow seeing the look in Bucky’s eyes hurts more than the bullet currently lodged in his stomach.

“I’m not gonna fight you.”

Sparks fly around them and Steve barely hears the sound of explosions, washed out by his heavy breathing as he lets his shield drop on the floor and into the water under them.

“You’re my friend,” he says, and his voice almost breaks on that last word, because it doesn’t feel enough. Bucky was Steve’s goddamn everything even before he discovered they were soulmates but he doesn’t want to tell him like this.

He wants Bucky to be himself when he finds out, not HYDRA’s cracked weapon but James Buchanan Barnes, in all his fractured glory.

The Winter Soldier tackles him with a grunt, and Steve doesn’t do anything to stop him, doesn’t even try to get away when Bucky’s looming over him.

“You’re my mission,” he says, and the wild look in his eyes is better than the emptiness there was before, but then the Winter Soldier starts punching him -

Steve doesn’t move, not even when Bucky hits harder, and when Bucky starts screaming again, the same three words immediately followed by a punch, and then there’s a pause and it feels like the world has stopped turning.

He’s just so tired. He wants Bucky back but he doesn’t want to hurt him, and his mission is complete, so there’s nothing left for him to do except try for one last time.

Bucky’s voice saying _you’re my mission_ is still ringing in his head, so he uses what little breath he has left to answer “Then finish it.”

“’Cause I’m with y-you ‘til the end of the line,” he breathes out, and Bucky’s horrified expression, eyes watering and metal arm still raised is the last thing he sees before he falls into the Potomac under them.

He welcomes the silence of the water like an old friend, and closes his eyes.

 

***

 

He blinked awake slowly to soft white light and R&B music, and while his brain made a list of places where he was currently hurting he turned around just to find Sam sitting next to his hospital bed.

“On your left” he croaked, voice rough with unused  and Sam just smiled at him.

He stayed in the hospital for a week, long enough for his super soldier metabolism to kick in and heal him faster than any human being had any right to, and then he went back to his apartment to pack.

Steve’s suitcase is now safe in Natasha’s car, and the sun is shining above them as they walk into the cemetery to meet up with Sam and Fury in front of Fury’s fake gravestone.

If Bucky’s desperate look of realization before Steve’s fall hadn’t been enough to make him believe in the possibility of cancelling the effect of HYDRA’s brainwashing, he knows that there’s only one person that could have saved him from drowning, and the knowledge that somehow even after 70 years somewhere there’s still the Bucky who would protect Steve with his life fills him with determination.

Fury is leaving to find HYDRA’s European bases, but Sam and Natasha are staying behind to help him, even if they’re concerned, about him and about whether Bucky can really stop being the Winter Soldier – and he doesn’t know how to say how grateful he is for that, because there are some things one shouldn’t do on their own.

“Here. I called in a few favors from Kiev,” Natasha says, handing him a file.

On the left there is a picture of Bucky, long hair and frozen inside some kind of chamber, and then a smaller one of Bucky in his uniform. The medical files are all written in Russian, but with Natasha’s help he’ll know what they say – if he wants to find anything to help Bucky, that’s one place to start.

They walk out of the cemetery in silence, and Sam drives away first, waving at them from inside his car.

Steve and Natasha stare at his car’s license plate before it disappears from view behind a building, and everything is silent until Natasha speaks.

“If you need a new place to stay, Stark is making renovations in his tower.”

“I think – I might move back to Brooklyn,” Steve answers, and Natasha hums, thoughtful.

“He might remember the neighborhood and come look for me there.”

“He also might not, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve sighs.

Natasha hums again.

“So, are we going to look for an apartment suited to a senior citizen any time soon?”

Steve catches himself laughing under his breath.

It’s not perfect, but it is a good day.

 

***

 

Going apartment-hunting in Brooklyn with Natasha is strange – mostly because the real estate agents keep mistaking them for a couple, but also because the neighborhood is both familiar and new, with its alleyways and red brick buildings that when he last saw them were under construction, and now look old and weathered by the passage of time.

It’s the fifth apartment they’re looking at this morning alone, but when the agent – Mrs. Hummel, a small woman in her fifties that reminds him a lot of Pepper Potts – opens the door, Steve knows he has already chosen.

The building is older than him, but according to the agent it was renovated right after the whole thing with Loki and aliens invading New York, and all the apartments are already occupied – except the one he’s looking at right now, on the last floor.

When he walks he can’t help but smile, even if it’s a little bitter. The living room alone is bigger than the shoebox apartment he used to share with Bucky, but it doesn’t matter – he would be concerned about the price, except apparently Nick Fury managed to acquire somehow every single penny in the HYDRA bank accounts, and it’s a shocking amount of money – he could probably buy the entire neighborhood if he wanted to, but he decided to give Steve part of the money instead, maybe out of pity.

It’s not every day one tries to find their brainwashed soulmate.

Nevertheless, he still feels a little guilty about spending that much money and that’s why he’s going to sell his old apartment in D.C. after what remains of S.H.I.E.L.D. cleans up the mess he made in his first encounter with the Winter Soldier. He’ll give the money back to Nick Fury or to charities or –

His train of thought is interrupted by Mrs. Hummel, pointedly gesturing him towards the bedrooms.

The apartment has two, one with an actual bed and the other set up as a training room, and the biggest bathroom Steve has ever seen – and the kitchen has marble countertops. It’s way more luxury than he needs or he’s used to, but the light that comes in from the living room’s large window feels _right_.

“I like this one,” Natasha says, smiling and looking at him like she knows.

“Yeah, I – I like it too.”

 

***

 

“You know, I still don’t understand why you don’t wanna stay at the Avengers Tower -” Tony mumbles from his spot under his enhanced treadmill while Natasha props it up, looking a bit bored with the entire situation.

When Tony sits up, a spot of grease on his forehead, Steve just looks at him and sighs.

“I told you, I’m still looking for my –“

“Yeah, yeah I know, your BFF Bucky Barnes, assassin extraordinaire – that’s not an excuse,” he says, pointing a screwdriver at him.

They’re setting up a training room equipped to deal with a super soldier in Steve’s spare bedroom, and it’s more complicated than it looks – they’re almost done though, with a space for weights and a punching bag with a titanium chain and designed not to rip even when punched by the Hulk.

“I told you I made a training room for Bruce’s little green problem, you could use it too!”

“If I actually find Bucky – I need a place where he can be one hundred percent safe, and where he won’t be able to hurt other people if HYDRA’s brainwashing is still in effect,” Steve says, looking down at his feet. When he raises his head up again Tony is looking at him with the usual smirk on his face.

“Sure, Rogers. Like this building is not full of people. If you wanted a place where to make sweet love to your boyfriend in peace you could have just said – or you can hang a sock on the door, did they do that in the military? Or did you have another code for ‘I’m getting laid’- “

“Does it bother you?” Steve interrupts him, and Tony closes his mouth shut. Natasha’s looking between the both of them with a weird expression on her face, probably remembering the file about Tony’s parents.

Maria and Howard Stark, both dead because of a car accident, probably staged by HYDRA - another assassination carried out by the Winter Soldier.

“That you’re looking for a decent person who’s coincidentally your oldest friend that’s been actually, real life brainwashed into doing fucked up things for a nazi organization and has somehow managed to get away from them? Not really, Rogers. I know this is very out of character for me, but I’m gonna wish you good luck and hope for the best,” Tony says, and he smirks. His eyes look sad, but not angry, and Steve breathes out the air he was holding inside his lungs.

“Actually, you know what, give me your phone, I’m gonna work my magic – “ Tony makes grabby hands for his smartphone, and when Steve gives it to him he whips out his own phone and tinkers with both for a while – Steve can see lines of code appearing on his own phone screen, but before he can try to read Tony gives it back, smirk still in place.

“I programmed a little something so it will send you a notification whenever news about a guy with a metal arm that looks like he lived in the wilderness for a couple of weeks pop up on the internet. And when I say the internet, I mean everywhere on the internet, this is no Google Alerts,” he says, and Steve smiles back at him.

“Thank you, Tony-“

“Yeah, save it for your boyfriend, Rogers. You’re welcome. Now, Pepper called me twice and I’d rather not miss another call, so I’m gonna bid you two adieu and go see what my amazing girlfriend wants – see ya!”

Tony walks out of the room with his usual amount of swagger, phone to his ear, and his voice carries out until he walks out of the front door.

Natasha snorts quietly behind him.

“Do you think he knows he has grease on his forehead?”

“No, I don’t think he does.”

 

***

 

After months of trying to find Bucky, following the trail of breadcrumbs he left after saving Steve from drowning and disappearing without a trace, he shows up on Steve’s doorstep.

He has a bruise on his cheekbone, his hair is longer than the last time he saw him, and his clothes are dirty and ragged – the result of living on the streets for that long, probably. His metal arm is well hidden by a coat and leather gloves, but Steve’s eyes catch the glint of metal where the end of the sleeve doesn’t quite meet the leather.

There’s a split second where Steve feels the need to close the door and go back to bed because – there’s no way this is not a dream. ( _He’s had dreams that start exactly like this_ , with Bucky showing up one day - in his dreams Bucky smiles and looks at him and says “Hey, punk. Good to see you again”.)  

But then Bucky blinks slowly, like a cat, and despite Sam’s voice in his head telling him to be careful Steve takes a step forward.

Bucky stays exactly where he is, rooted to the spot, arms along his sides, and Steve raises his hand, slowly, until he touches his shoulder.

“I missed you, you know,” and he didn’t mean to say that, he meant to say _are you okay_ , _do you want something to eat_ , _is anyone following you_ , and he feels so selfish for pointing out his feelings, of all things.

Like Bucky didn’t go through enough without Steve’s guilt weighing down on him, too.

He doesn’t need it. Right now all he needs is food and a place to sleep and Steve’s help, and if the soulmate scar feels on fire under Steve’s shirt right now would be the worst possible time to mention it.

Bucky’s eyes are not empty like they were on the bridge, but they don’t have the sparkle of playfulness and whatever it was that made Bucky, well, _Bucky_ – but he’s looking at Steve’s hand on his right shoulder like it’s something new – not dangerous or threatening or unwelcome, just new.

Steve lets his hand fall down and moves away from the door, leaving a wide gap for Bucky to walk through.

“Are you going to come in?”

Natasha would call it a question within a question before cracking a joke about Inception.

_Are you going to come in? Are you going to stay?_

Bucky nods.

 

***

 

He’s glad Natasha told him to buy a futon, because that way Steve can at least sleep on a bed instead of a couch. He offers Bucky his room because he figures it feels safer, four walls and a window with bulletproof glass, bed facing the door, instead of the open space of his living room.

He’s right. Bucky still hasn’t spoken a word, but he seems to approve of Steve’s choice and thanks him with a small nod when Steve hands him towels and clean clothes and points him towards the bathroom.

A part of Steve wants to follow him into the bathroom to make sure he’s alright, that he knows what to do, that he’s not going to end up hurting himself, accidentally or not – but Bucky gives him a look and doesn’t completely close the door behind him.

Steve lets out a small breath.

Bucky doesn’t seem to remember anything about Steve or himself, but he also doesn’t seem to want him dead, and for now that’s enough.

As the shower is running Steve puts new sheets on his makeshift bed and goes into the kitchen to make something to eat for both of them. He settles for simple sandwiches, not bothering with anything fancy – but at least the sandwiches keep his hands busy as he waits for the noise of water hitting the shower plate to stop.

When he’s done he leans against the kitchen countertop, facing the door, and his fingernails tap incessantly against the frankly unnecessary marble covering.

It’s a steady beat, one-two-three, one-two-three, a miniature waltz for his heart to dance to -

And then Bucky walks into the room, dripping wet hair in his eyes, Steve looks at him for a long moment.

It still doesn’t feel as real as it should, even with the quiet noise of the drops of water falling from Bucky’s hair on the kitchen floor, and the silence between them is too heavy.

“Do you remember me?”

The question falls from Steve’s lips before he can stop it, words tumbling off his tongue like an avalanche.

Bucky looks at him, and for a moment the only noise Steve can hear is the rush of blood in his ears.

“Your mother’s name was Sarah. You – you used to wear newspapers in your shoes.”

Bucky’s mouth is curled in a pale imitation of his old smile, but Steve’s heart stops and starts again anyway.

He can’t help but slowly walk towards Bucky and put his arms around him, a gradual and careful movement that only turns into a real embrace when Bucky mirrors him, fingers brushing over Steve’s back, and Steve feels the tears burn on his cheeks before he realizes he’s crying.

The metal arm is cold through the thin fabric of Steve’s shirt, but he doesn’t care.

He clutches Bucky harder while the sandwiches lie forgotten on the counter.

 

***

 

Living with Bucky is weirdly easy. They find a routine that works for both of them after a week: Steve will wake up at five, make coffee for himself, go for his usual run and put the coffee maker on again when he comes back just before he goes into the bathroom to take a shower.

When he comes out already wearing clean clothes and his hair still damp, Bucky will be sitting at the kitchen table, drinking his coffee from the pale blue mug he pretty much claimed as his since his second day of staying with him.

It feels familiar and domestic, and if Steve’s hit with bursts of overwhelming fondness and affection for the man in his kitchen, no one has to know but him.

They talk, of course. They talk a lot - about Bucky’s memories of the war and what happened before it, and about modern technology and what’s happening right now in the world – it’s not like HYDRA cared about updating Bucky on world news after all – and Steve hass introduced Bucky to Sam and Natasha already. It went pretty well, all things considered.

Sam made a few jokes, easygoing as always, and it was enough to make Bucky relax and sit back against the living room couch as they talked. It was even easier with Natasha: they didn’t stop snapping in rapid-fire Russian at each other for a second, not even when Steve cleared his throat a few times, feeling a bit left out.

When he was time for Sam to leave – “Duty’s calling! Sorry, my niece needs a babysitter” – Steve accompanied him to the door, and Sam stepped outside the apartment and looked at Steve for a few seconds before gesturing at him to walk out and closing the door behind him, making sure Bucky and Natasha couldn’t hear them from the inside.

“Have you told him?”

Steve didn’t need to ask what he was referring to, so he just shook his head no, probably looking more composed than he felt.

The knowledge that he’s Bucky’s soulmate burns in the back of his head and most of all, in the scar circling his shoulder, but he still hadn’t told him.

“Good. Listen, man – I don’t think you should tell him right now. He’s getting better, he’s smiling and he seems to remember who he was but – we shouldn’t push it. We still don’t know everything HYDRA did to him, and too many things all at once might overwhelm him. I’m really sorry,” Sam said, and he looked as pained to say it as much as Steve felt to hear it.

Steve just nodded, and stared at the back of Sam’s head going down the stairs, then turned around and got back inside.

The couch was still occupied by Natasha and Bucky talking in Russian, and Steve mumbled out a weak excuse about needing to clean the kitchen before walking out of the living room.

Steve and Bucky talk a lot, about everything, but never about soulmates.

They never used to talk about it even when they were younger, before the war. None of them had any actual scars, and Steve always tried to change the subject, because, well. The possibility of not being Bucky’s soulmate hurt too much. It doesn’t help that now that he knows that James Buchanan Barnes is his match, not telling him is just as painful.

So, no, they don’t talk about soulmates - until they do.

New York is noisy as ever outside the window, but Steve’s living room is quiet except for the credits score of one of the movies from Natasha’s list – it was about aliens invading Earth through a space rift in the Pacific and apparently humans decided the best course of action was, of course, building giant robots piloted by two or more people to fight them.

It wasn’t a bad movie, but Steve’s heart just wasn’t in it, and he found himself curling on himself on the couch sketching the profile of the leading actress instead of following the storyline.

At some point, Bucky stopped watching the movie, too, and scooted closer to start watching Steve work instead, pencil tracing nose, lips, chin –

“Have you found your soulmate?”

The pencil lead makes a sharp sound as it snaps against paper, the pressure too strong. It leaves a dark mark on the otherwise delicate jawline, and Steve can only stare at it for a moment, before turning to look at Bucky.

“No, you know what, I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry-“

“Wait, no, Buck, listen –,”

“It’s just, you know, those two in the movie were soulmates, I was just wondering-“

Before he can think about what he’s doing he clutches Bucky’s arm with his left hand, not caring about the sketchbook falling from his knees onto the living room floor.

“Don’t worry about  it, it’s just – complicated,” Steve says, and Bucky looks at him for a long moment before nodding a few times.

“Yeah, I understand,” he almost whispers, and Steve moves his hand away and picks up his sketchbook from the spot where it fell next to the couch.

He wants nothing more than to tell him right now, right there, in the half-darkness of his apartment, but he doesn’t. One day, he thinks – one day he won’t be able to swallow back the words and then –

He doesn’t finish the thought, instead he tucks it away somewhere deep inside him, in one of the few corners left unoccupied by the man sitting next to him.

Sam’s voice reminding him of Bucky’s fragile state – Steve, I’m sorry, but you can’t tell him right now – wait for a while, ok? It might do more harm than good. I’m really sorry, man. – only adds guilt to the pile of messed up feelings he’s made of.

He starts drawing again.

 

***

 

Everything seems to be fine, for a while. They don’t mention soulmates again, but they don’t stop talking about everything else.

Steve keeps asking Sam for advice on how to help Bucky, but every day it feels like Bucky’s getting better.

He’s not the same person he was before HYDRA - but neither is Steve, and that’s okay.

They’re learning how to be around each other again, and if they’re both quieter and more melancholic, none of them mention it.

Until, around the one month mark of Bucky’s stay, he starts behaving strangely. Steve doesn’t understand why he’s been looking - haunted. There’s no other way to describe it.

And then one morning he walks out of the bathroom after his usual shower and finds Bucky standing perfectly still in the middle of the kitchen, eyes wide and fixated on the number on the calendar.

“I had to report for damage control and emergency conditioning every four weeks, I - I should reach the nearest HYDRA base as soon as possible,” he mutters under his breath, and he seems to move towards the door like a puppet, invisible strings making him take step after step -

Until Steve runs to block his way and notices that Bucky’s entire body is trembling with the strain of trying to resist the pull in his brain, and he leads them both towards the bedroom.

Bucky is staring in front of him, eyes wide and scared, and Steve makes him sit on the bed before going back to close the door.

“Buck - Bucky, talk to me, please,” Steve whispers, and Bucky is unresponsive for a terrifying second before he closes his eyes.

“You know, I never told you why I came here - it was because - there was a kid, smaller than you were, she had dark curly hair and the ends were bleached and it was your same hair color - you know, she was yelling at this guy and he was so much bigger than her but she didn’t look afraid and I - I don’t know, I guess it hit me all at once, it all came back in a rush and then I had to go and scare the shit out of that guy because how could I not? And then she looked at me and said she could have handled him, and she reminded me of you so much I had to find you again -” Bucky murmurs and he’s still trembling, hands clenched over his knees.

Steve wraps his arms around him and Bucky’s shoulders relax, just a fraction, enough for his face to end up in the nook between Steve’s neck and his right shoulder, and Bucky keeps talking, whispering a story about their childhood Steve has heard a thousand times before.

He’s so focused in rubbing circles on Bucky’s back, hoping it’s going to help him relax, he almost doesn’t catch the quiet “I’m sorry” Bucky whispers after he’s done telling Steve’s adventure with the neighbor’s cat when they were twelve.

Steve’s first instinct is to hug Bucky tighter, but he needs to reassure him there’s nothing he should be sorry for, and for that he needs to use actual words. He still doesn’t let go.

“There’s nothing you should be sorry for -”

“Yes, there is - I hurt you again and again and they’ve turned me into a weapon, I’m not a person anymore,” Bucky rants, and Steve doesn’t let go of him but still flinches as if he’d been hit.

He wants to cry, but he can’t allow himself that, not when Bucky needs his help the most, so he blinks the tears away and clutches Bucky closer, murmuring reassurances that he’s a good person, that none of the horrible things HYDRA did were in any way his fault, that he’s real and there and healthy and safe and that’s all that matters right now.

They stay like that for the entire day, only moving to the kitchen to eat something when they both get hungry.

Late in the evening, Bucky gradually stops shivering. They still stay curled up against each other in Bucky’s bed, and fall asleep facing each other, Steve’s arm curled protectively over Bucky.

 

***

 

He should have known it was only a matter of time until Bucky found out. After his breakdown – where Steve felt more helpless than ever, holding a trembling Bucky in his arms for hours – he’s been more careless than ever, too worried to remember that he shouldn’t show his scar, not until Bucky reaches a more stable condition.

And then he forgot to completely close his bedroom door while he was changing and Bucky walked in, quietly asking after Natasha.

They looked at each other for a split second, wide eyed, Bucky in a blue t-shirt that brought out his eyes and Steve clutching his own grey henley in his hands.

Then Bucky’s eyes dropped to his shoulder and Steve could almost see realization hit him all at once, but before he could say anything Bucky turned around and all but dashed towards the front door.

Now, running after Bucky outside his apartment and up the stairs that lead to the roof, Steve is only glad he decided to go up instead of disappearing in the streets of New York.

He opens the door to the roof with too much force and the noise echoes down the corridor behind him, but it doesn’t matter. What he cares about the most, right now, is the man standing right in front of him, staring like he can’t take his eyes away but at the same time taking a few steps back like the distance between them is suddenly not enough.

“Bucky-“

“No, it’s not- I can’t be - Soulmates are for people.  I’m not-“

Steve can feel his own heart breaking, the burning in his chest worse than asthma and drowning and any kind of torture he’s ever had to go through: he wants to take a step towards Bucky, to wrap him in his arms and somehow erase everything HYDRA did to him.

The roof is cold and he can feel goosebumps forming on his skin, but he’s still clutching his shirt in his hand and he has no intention of putting it on again.  It’s no use now – Bucky knows and – Steve is so tired.

He needs Bucky, and he needs him to see, to understand that he’s the one Steve’s been waiting for after all this time – _‘til the end of the line._

Bucky is still staring, but his eyes are not empty like they were before. He unclenches his fingers, one by one, and his metal arm catches the first shy rays of sunlight coming up to find them on a roof in the middle of Brooklyn.

Bucky’s arms come up to the hem of his shirt, and he slowly takes it off, inch by inch, like he’s not sure how to do it, and there it is. The scar tissue around his metal arm is an angry shade of red, and it matches Steve’s.

The pattern is exactly the same, down to the zig-zag of the scar up to his collarbone , and Steve can feel tears welling up in his eyes, and he smiles.

He meets Bucky’s gaze and takes that step forward. They’re almost touching now, but that step felt like the jump he made in the HYDRA base a lifetime ago, reaching for his best friend while the world exploded around them.

He’s always reaching for Bucky – in Azzano, on the train, and even now, even while his hands are at his sides, even if he’s holding himself so still he doesn’t feel the need to blink.

He wonders what kind of picture they make, two shirtless guys a breath apart looking at each other, both with the same scar that circles their left shoulder, but then Bucky slowly raises his arm.

Bucky’s fingers – the flesh and blood ones – come up to trace Steve’s scar, with a gentleness that seems only appropriate in the soft light surrounding them, and Steve is trying to keep his breathing even, but it’s hard when Bucky is touching him, touching the scar that seems to scream _you’re my soulmate_. 

He knows he should wait just a little longer, but he can’t help but raise his right arm too, mirroring Bucky, and touch the skin where flesh turns into metal plates.

He doesn’t stop there, running his fingers down Bucky’s arm until he reaches his fingers. The metal is not cold, even in the crispy morning air, and he intertwines his fingers with Bucky’s  almost without thinking, like he’s always wanted to do.

Bucky’s expression softens and he doesn’t look like the Winter Soldier anymore, he looks like Bucky did before the war, as he watched Steve draw in the light that filtered through the window in their small apartment in Brooklyn, and the parallel would be hilarious in another occasion.

Two men out of time finding themselves in the same situations, again and again, like distorted mirror images 70 years apart, but with their souls as the universal constant.

“You’re my soulmate”, Bucky whispers, and Steve is crying now, and Bucky’s full on smiling, and the sunrise around them is bright and full of promises.

“Steve, you’re my soulmate”, he whispers again, and Steve laughs through his tears, a tiny hiccup that goes through his whole body.

“I used to hope – before, you know, I remember – that it was you,” Bucky adds, and his chest feels too small to hold all those emotions in.

Bucky is so close now, and he keeps looking at Steve in the eyes through his lashes, and there’s a quiet electricity around them and a magnetic field made of half-forgotten what ifs and maybes, dissolving under the morning light.

He almost doesn’t hear Bucky asking “Can I-“, looking at his lips. Steve knows how that question ends, so he nods, not trusting himself to speak just yet, and when Bucky gets closer his eyes close of their own accord.

And then Bucky’s mouth is on his, lips chapped and warm and waiting two lifetimes for this was worth it, because _his soulmate_ ’s hands are cradling his face, thumbs on his cheekbones, and Steve’s hands are on Bucky’s waist, clutching at his bare skin, and they’re kissing like they’re the only people on Earth while New York wakes up around them.

When they part to breath Steve opens his eyes, and there’s Bucky, smiling and beautiful and surrounded by the morning light, and Steve’s heart feels whole again.

He kisses Bucky again until he can’t feel his lips and the sun is high up in the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> ive been writing this since the american revolution and its the longest thing ive ever written in english and omg steve is probably so ooc but. idec i just wanted to say i couldnt have done this without help, so a big thank u (& a hug & chocolate chip cookies) to tumblr users grace francisabernaathy, who yelled at me because of how sad the first part was, and giada lydiaisimmune, whose fave line is coincidentally one of the few i'm v proud of ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> title is from daylight by matt & kim :)
> 
> im at tumblr @ patroclvss


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